and a silver spoon... No, that's not it. Oh, cats on the sofa and a big green blanket. Nope, but it's closer.
Tonight was great in that slow, easy kind of way. I lay on the sofa with a blanket and watched "The Day After Tomorrow". Both cats climbed up there with me. Binks decided to warm up my toes, and Mr. Bond climbed up on my chest. Seems appropriate that the super-spy decided to lay on the mountains of glory. Of course, I only saw half the movie - you know, the cat on lap = sleeping person phenomenon.
So now I'm all sleepy and my movie's over, so I guess I'll go to bed and let the cats suck the rest of the energy out of me.
G'night.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Monday, May 30, 2005
An Exciting Memorial Day
I woke up slowly today, with the intention of sleeping as long as Binks and Mr. Bond would let me. They actually let me go quite a long time for them; in fact, it was my own body's needs that pulled me from my comfy bed.
At about 7:15, I did the cats-between-my-feet walk to the kitchen and pulled their food dishes out of the drain. They howled at me as I wiped them out and put food in them. Just to be nasty (because I am, you know), I held the dishes over the cats' heads for a moment before setting them down. As usual they both headed for the same bowl and I had to pick which one to redirect to the second bowl. They never seem to mind that once they figure that, "Hey, I get a whole bowl to myself!"
After taking care of them, I started the next phase of my plan for the day - breakfast. There's a little restaurant next to my apartment building called the Village Inn. I pass it all the time, and have never gone in there. So I intended to have breakfast there today. And that's what I did. I walked down and ate strawberry crepes (not creeps--don't eat creeps, you never know where they've been...) with bacon and hash browns. Not great hash browns, just the typical breakfast joint hash browns. But the crepes were excellent, and the bacon fed my meat craving, so all was well. Oh, and the coffee. I needed the coffee.
I enjoy going outside so early in the morning. Living in Florida, this time of year, it's already hot by 9 am, so if you want LESS hot air, you go out early or late. The air was suggesting to me that the rest of the day would be better spent indoors until later in the afternoon.
That was fine with me, since I also intended to do the laundry I've ignored all weekend and do some other little chores around the house. Luckily for me, the building I live in has a washer and dryer on each floor. Unluckily for me, the dryer on my floor likes to stop working while it's full of my wet laundry. Today was no different, but at least it finished drying my first load before it conked out. And since it happened on the first one, I didn't waste the quarters on the second one.
Sometimes, rather than chance mechanical failure here, I'll just load it up in my truck and go to the Laundromat down the road. But that's a bit more expensive and I have to carry the laundry farther, so I usually try it here first. Today’s efforts were further challenged by one or more of the youths in my building.
Someone thought pulling the fire alarm was a good idea. I opened my balcony, which is where I store the cat carriers, and lured the cats out there in case it was a real threat. I went out into the hall to see if there was any sign of an emergency. No smoke… No people running in panic… I walked down to the laundry room to look out the window into the courtyard below. Families were sitting at the picnic tables lunching calmly. Children were splashing innocently in the pool. I went back to the balcony of my apartment. The cats had decided that the noise was unbearable and had both burrowed under the blankets of my bed rather than hang around waiting for me to trap them in their carriers. I looked towards the road because I could hear that the fire department had arrived.
I still saw nothing to indicate an immediate need to evacuate, and I certainly wasn’t evacuating myself without my cats, so I decided to wait and see what happened. If I saw any sign of real trouble I’d stuff the cats into the carriers and get out. Now, they REALLY have to lose weight. Normally when a fire alarm goes off, the elevators are automatically shut down. This building is no different from the norm in that. If we have a real emergency, I’ll be carrying these two brutes down six flights of stairs. Uh-huh, their diet is going to continue.
So, since there was nothing else for me to do but wait for the situation to explode or clear up, I continued with my laundry. As I said, the dryer stopped tumbling towards the end of the first load. So I put both loads back into my basket and brought them back here to hang on the shower curtain rod. Great, the laundry is done. Now to the vacuuming: As if the alarm noise weren’t enough, I pulled out the Eureka and went to work with it, causing the cats to disappear deeper into my bed. I do this at least once a week, and I’m always amazed at how much cat hair (and my hair) it sucks up; especially since only about half of the apartment is carpeted.
While vacuuming, the noise in the hall apparently stopped. What a relief! So I decided to visit the pool – another thing I have yet to do since I got here. My phone rang. It was a friend from Virginia calling to make me feel guilty for not calling. I said not to feel left out; my parents called yesterday and said the exact same thing. It’s true. It’s not that they aren’t on my mind; I just don’t have that much to talk about. Besides, I still don’t have local phone service, so I have to do all my calling on the cell phone. The cell phone is cheaper for calling but has a totally suck-ass battery, so I almost always have to plug it in as soon as I get done talking so that it doesn’t die before the next call comes in. And since this building is designed to survive a hurricane, it is NOT built to allow a lot of phone signal through, so the battery dies even faster and I lose the call about half the time.
After that call, I decided a nap was in order and proceeded to lie on the sofa with Mr. Bond and my big green blanket. We had a nice siesta watching “Shrek 2,” and then my sister called to see what was going on. We talked about the (&^% kids with the fire alarm, and about my upcoming trip home. She understands the idea of keeping things brief. She’s a good sister.
I finally went to the pool at about 4 pm, which was late enough in the day that I didn’t think I’d get fried to death in 3 seconds. I stayed out about 30 minutes. Keep in mind, I haven’t gotten much sun in the last few years, so I have the usual tan arms and face (and a little on the shoulders) but everything below the neck is white like the moon. So the process of turning myself into a tanned Floridian will take time and care. Oh, did I mention that the elevators are still not working after the alarm? So I had to take the stairs back up. I’m really out of shape. Yep, I’m really glad I didn’t decide to take the laundry out with me.
And that’s my excited Memorial Day.
Wow, I really need to get a life, don’t I?
At about 7:15, I did the cats-between-my-feet walk to the kitchen and pulled their food dishes out of the drain. They howled at me as I wiped them out and put food in them. Just to be nasty (because I am, you know), I held the dishes over the cats' heads for a moment before setting them down. As usual they both headed for the same bowl and I had to pick which one to redirect to the second bowl. They never seem to mind that once they figure that, "Hey, I get a whole bowl to myself!"
After taking care of them, I started the next phase of my plan for the day - breakfast. There's a little restaurant next to my apartment building called the Village Inn. I pass it all the time, and have never gone in there. So I intended to have breakfast there today. And that's what I did. I walked down and ate strawberry crepes (not creeps--don't eat creeps, you never know where they've been...) with bacon and hash browns. Not great hash browns, just the typical breakfast joint hash browns. But the crepes were excellent, and the bacon fed my meat craving, so all was well. Oh, and the coffee. I needed the coffee.
I enjoy going outside so early in the morning. Living in Florida, this time of year, it's already hot by 9 am, so if you want LESS hot air, you go out early or late. The air was suggesting to me that the rest of the day would be better spent indoors until later in the afternoon.
That was fine with me, since I also intended to do the laundry I've ignored all weekend and do some other little chores around the house. Luckily for me, the building I live in has a washer and dryer on each floor. Unluckily for me, the dryer on my floor likes to stop working while it's full of my wet laundry. Today was no different, but at least it finished drying my first load before it conked out. And since it happened on the first one, I didn't waste the quarters on the second one.
Sometimes, rather than chance mechanical failure here, I'll just load it up in my truck and go to the Laundromat down the road. But that's a bit more expensive and I have to carry the laundry farther, so I usually try it here first. Today’s efforts were further challenged by one or more of the youths in my building.
Someone thought pulling the fire alarm was a good idea. I opened my balcony, which is where I store the cat carriers, and lured the cats out there in case it was a real threat. I went out into the hall to see if there was any sign of an emergency. No smoke… No people running in panic… I walked down to the laundry room to look out the window into the courtyard below. Families were sitting at the picnic tables lunching calmly. Children were splashing innocently in the pool. I went back to the balcony of my apartment. The cats had decided that the noise was unbearable and had both burrowed under the blankets of my bed rather than hang around waiting for me to trap them in their carriers. I looked towards the road because I could hear that the fire department had arrived.
I still saw nothing to indicate an immediate need to evacuate, and I certainly wasn’t evacuating myself without my cats, so I decided to wait and see what happened. If I saw any sign of real trouble I’d stuff the cats into the carriers and get out. Now, they REALLY have to lose weight. Normally when a fire alarm goes off, the elevators are automatically shut down. This building is no different from the norm in that. If we have a real emergency, I’ll be carrying these two brutes down six flights of stairs. Uh-huh, their diet is going to continue.
So, since there was nothing else for me to do but wait for the situation to explode or clear up, I continued with my laundry. As I said, the dryer stopped tumbling towards the end of the first load. So I put both loads back into my basket and brought them back here to hang on the shower curtain rod. Great, the laundry is done. Now to the vacuuming: As if the alarm noise weren’t enough, I pulled out the Eureka and went to work with it, causing the cats to disappear deeper into my bed. I do this at least once a week, and I’m always amazed at how much cat hair (and my hair) it sucks up; especially since only about half of the apartment is carpeted.
While vacuuming, the noise in the hall apparently stopped. What a relief! So I decided to visit the pool – another thing I have yet to do since I got here. My phone rang. It was a friend from Virginia calling to make me feel guilty for not calling. I said not to feel left out; my parents called yesterday and said the exact same thing. It’s true. It’s not that they aren’t on my mind; I just don’t have that much to talk about. Besides, I still don’t have local phone service, so I have to do all my calling on the cell phone. The cell phone is cheaper for calling but has a totally suck-ass battery, so I almost always have to plug it in as soon as I get done talking so that it doesn’t die before the next call comes in. And since this building is designed to survive a hurricane, it is NOT built to allow a lot of phone signal through, so the battery dies even faster and I lose the call about half the time.
After that call, I decided a nap was in order and proceeded to lie on the sofa with Mr. Bond and my big green blanket. We had a nice siesta watching “Shrek 2,” and then my sister called to see what was going on. We talked about the (&^% kids with the fire alarm, and about my upcoming trip home. She understands the idea of keeping things brief. She’s a good sister.
I finally went to the pool at about 4 pm, which was late enough in the day that I didn’t think I’d get fried to death in 3 seconds. I stayed out about 30 minutes. Keep in mind, I haven’t gotten much sun in the last few years, so I have the usual tan arms and face (and a little on the shoulders) but everything below the neck is white like the moon. So the process of turning myself into a tanned Floridian will take time and care. Oh, did I mention that the elevators are still not working after the alarm? So I had to take the stairs back up. I’m really out of shape. Yep, I’m really glad I didn’t decide to take the laundry out with me.
And that’s my excited Memorial Day.
Wow, I really need to get a life, don’t I?
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Bugs N Cats N Me
So here I am, in my comfy little apartment. I have finally let my 2 cats in from the balcony where they've been stuck all day. Why were they stuck on the balcony? Because the new management firm who handles the building I live in said they were coming today to do major pest control work, and that I should keep any pets or small children out of the apartment until they were done. Ok, fine. I have to agree with the major pest control work. I've had cockroaches of nearly every size and type visit me in my kitchen in the 3 1/2 weeks I've lived here.
So, poor Binks and Mr. Bond spent a hot day on the balcony. I put their food dishes out there with them, full of food, and a nice big bowl of fresh water, and their potty box (of course), and even went the extra bit by putting a nice soft towel inside each of their cat carriers so they'd have something comfy to lie on/in out of the sun. I wanted desperately to come home at lunch and check on them but that didn't work out. So they had no contact until I came home (late because I'm a dork) at about 6:30. I left the house at 7:40 this morning because I had to get breakfast - I'd packed my entire kitchen into plastic bags that were all laid out on the kitchen table. I was not going through them for anything.
Back to the point - well, it might be a point.
I came home this evening and let the boys into the apartment, resigned to suffering through a loud and legnthy tongue lashing in stereophonic surround sound, located primarily in the vicinity of my feet. In this, I was not disappointed. Mr. Bond sang a song of woe and heartache that I thought would surely kill me just to hear it. This accompaniment followed me to the kitchen where I took the disturbingly full food dishes. Meanwhile Binks paraded up and down the hallway - into the bathroom, the bedrooms, the closets - calling out in a query-type meow that sounded like he was looking for a missing child. (Whenever he does this, I think he's looking for my parents and their cat, Winky, in whose house we lived before we came here. In this case, he probably was, since he never got locked outside and ignored all day when Grandpa was home.)
Once I finally stopped moving and could look at the food dishes in my hands (instead of watching the cat at my feet so I didn't step on him), I realized why they were so disturbingly full. The tiniest black ants I have ever seen began streaming out of the food dishes in such massive hordes, I wondered about two things: 1) how was there any room left for the food? and 2) how did they get all the way up to the sixth floor? Did they have some secret ant elevator that humans can't see? I emptied the food dishes and drowned the remaining ants by washing the dishes in soapy wateer - I had to find the paper towels to accomplish this, which annoyed me since I really just wanted to relax and putting the kitchen back together was the last thing on my mind. Anyway, I finished drowning the ants, cleaned and dried the dishes and located the bag of food on the table so I could feed the riotous crowd of two hot and hungry cats.
Then I realized some more things that left me worried. Management had pest control here today. As far as I knew, it was all about the roaches. Do they know about the ants? This is the first I've seen of them, so I haven't mentioned it to them, and the rest of the tenants remain a mystery to me - are they even disturbed by the presence of bugs in their homes? So, I have no idea if ants were considered in the extermination plans.
Then I remembered that many cockroach pesticides are also effective on other types of insects, i.e. ants. Ok, so the ants will probably be poisoned along with the roaches. Except, wait a minute - they didn't go on the balconies because that's where the pets (and possibly some small children) were banished for the day. Hmmm... So now the dilemma: Do I tell management about the ants in the hopes that they'll tell me, in a John Wayne sort of drawl, "Don't worry, little lady, we got them, too?"
But then, is that really what I hope? I mean, if they did go out on the balcony, I still have issues. The whole point of putting the cats out there was to protect them from the pesticide's fumes (and to keep them from licking it all up and poisoning themselves out of sheer idiocy). Then there's the added point that putting them on the balcony keeps Mr. Bond from making yet another escape attempt down the long hall of blue carpet and no open doors. Of course, he can't really get anywhere - he can't work the elevator - but he'd be traumatized by having strangers chasing him up and down the hallway. And then there's the possibility that they'd actually catch him - Mr. Bond may not have claws, but he does have teeth and I swear the cat is made of rubberbands instead of flesh and bone. Oh, and he weighs 18 pounds, which catches everyone by surprise since he looks slender and, hey, he's a cat - how heavy can he be? Right? Right.
On the same level, if the workers went on the balcony and did for the ants, how the devil did they get those cats back out there? I really want to know the answer to that one. It took me a good ten minutes to get Binks back out from under my bed this morning when he made a break for it (after seeing me trying to close the balcony door - I must develope those lightning fast reflexes I keep thinking I have until the cats prove me insanely wrong). And if they did have to corral the cats back out there, I REALLY wish I'd been here to watch, because I'm sure it was a very comical sight from the view of the fly on the wall. Of course, I'm biased. In my mind, Cat versus Big Worker-Man Human always means the cat will be dramatically victorious.
I don't know. Part of me thinks I should just let it go. After all, I only have this place for seven months, no matter what. But how much trouble will these fiendish ants become if I don't act on it now? I could always put out ant traps on the balcony. Because they were so effective on the roaches in the apartment. And I really don't want my sunrise sessions with cats and coffee to be spoiled by the presence of crawly bugs on my skin. But I also don't want Binks and Mr. Bond playing with the traps. They are the perfect size for kitty paws to use for kitty soccer. I know this because that's the first thing Binks tried to do upon discovering one in the bathroom. I'm so relieved that he isn't amused at all by the look (and shriek) of sheer terror that I released when I caught him at that. It would really stink to have to choose between seeing no roaches (for about a week, which is all as long as these 3-month baits worked) and between my baby getting sick (or worse) from playing with them. I know I'd choose to deal with the roaches, but I'd be ticked about it.
The things we do for our babies. Now if it comes to spiders, the cats are just going to have to learn to catch and eat them. I don't completely have it in for spiders, but I do have a problem with them hanging around (or creepy-crawling around) in my personal space. They're fine as long as I don't know they're there. Hey, they eat bugs, like cockroaches and ants. But they also leave icky-sticky spider webs floating around in thin air, waiting to catch one unawares and cause convulsions of gross-out, get-it-off-me-*(&^%... And then there's whole thing about wrapping their food up and sucking it dry, then leaving the empty sack laying around for someone else (me) to clean up. When I took my furniture out of storage after about five years, lots of spider remnants were attached to my things and I really can't express my disgust at having to get rid of that crap. Well, not in any terms that I'd put in a movie with a rating milder than "R," anyway. And I really HATE (yes, I said HATE) having an unwitting spider (who I'm sure is just looking for a free ride to the next tasty treat) get on me. On me. Shuuder and moan. This is definitely not a girl you're going to spot in pet store playing with tarantulas. No way. Not I.
And what is it nowadays with movie makers all trying to outdo each other by making the most beleiveable spiders and then making big, long, horrifying scenes with them? Example 1: "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets" out in the woods with Harry, Ron, the dog and the car. The only one that wasn't exceedingly creepy was the one who should have been the most horrific. I know I'd pee myself empty if I saw a spider the size of a house. But, no, it's the thousands of spiders in all other sizes that really put me off my popcorn in that scene. Example 2: "Lord of the Rings: the Return of the King" when Golem lures Frodo in the spider's lair. I think even wandering in the dark, the first wiff of that place would make me turn tail and run. And it that didn't do, finding the first bag of bones would. And I don't care where you are, if you've just been chased by a giant spider, and you come out of a hole in the side of a mountain into open space, you look everywhere, especially up and behind. Because spiders have an amazing ability to scrunch themselves through teeny tiny passages smaller than their bodies, and you never know where they'll come out. And they're fast and agile, and they're outsides are made of hard stuff.
Ok, just ick.
Well, I hope I've gotten you as sidetracked as I've gotten myself. If I have, at least I've accomplished something. :) Go pet your cats and kill your bugs. Take care to avoid getting these instructions backwards.
So, poor Binks and Mr. Bond spent a hot day on the balcony. I put their food dishes out there with them, full of food, and a nice big bowl of fresh water, and their potty box (of course), and even went the extra bit by putting a nice soft towel inside each of their cat carriers so they'd have something comfy to lie on/in out of the sun. I wanted desperately to come home at lunch and check on them but that didn't work out. So they had no contact until I came home (late because I'm a dork) at about 6:30. I left the house at 7:40 this morning because I had to get breakfast - I'd packed my entire kitchen into plastic bags that were all laid out on the kitchen table. I was not going through them for anything.
Back to the point - well, it might be a point.
I came home this evening and let the boys into the apartment, resigned to suffering through a loud and legnthy tongue lashing in stereophonic surround sound, located primarily in the vicinity of my feet. In this, I was not disappointed. Mr. Bond sang a song of woe and heartache that I thought would surely kill me just to hear it. This accompaniment followed me to the kitchen where I took the disturbingly full food dishes. Meanwhile Binks paraded up and down the hallway - into the bathroom, the bedrooms, the closets - calling out in a query-type meow that sounded like he was looking for a missing child. (Whenever he does this, I think he's looking for my parents and their cat, Winky, in whose house we lived before we came here. In this case, he probably was, since he never got locked outside and ignored all day when Grandpa was home.)
Once I finally stopped moving and could look at the food dishes in my hands (instead of watching the cat at my feet so I didn't step on him), I realized why they were so disturbingly full. The tiniest black ants I have ever seen began streaming out of the food dishes in such massive hordes, I wondered about two things: 1) how was there any room left for the food? and 2) how did they get all the way up to the sixth floor? Did they have some secret ant elevator that humans can't see? I emptied the food dishes and drowned the remaining ants by washing the dishes in soapy wateer - I had to find the paper towels to accomplish this, which annoyed me since I really just wanted to relax and putting the kitchen back together was the last thing on my mind. Anyway, I finished drowning the ants, cleaned and dried the dishes and located the bag of food on the table so I could feed the riotous crowd of two hot and hungry cats.
Then I realized some more things that left me worried. Management had pest control here today. As far as I knew, it was all about the roaches. Do they know about the ants? This is the first I've seen of them, so I haven't mentioned it to them, and the rest of the tenants remain a mystery to me - are they even disturbed by the presence of bugs in their homes? So, I have no idea if ants were considered in the extermination plans.
Then I remembered that many cockroach pesticides are also effective on other types of insects, i.e. ants. Ok, so the ants will probably be poisoned along with the roaches. Except, wait a minute - they didn't go on the balconies because that's where the pets (and possibly some small children) were banished for the day. Hmmm... So now the dilemma: Do I tell management about the ants in the hopes that they'll tell me, in a John Wayne sort of drawl, "Don't worry, little lady, we got them, too?"
But then, is that really what I hope? I mean, if they did go out on the balcony, I still have issues. The whole point of putting the cats out there was to protect them from the pesticide's fumes (and to keep them from licking it all up and poisoning themselves out of sheer idiocy). Then there's the added point that putting them on the balcony keeps Mr. Bond from making yet another escape attempt down the long hall of blue carpet and no open doors. Of course, he can't really get anywhere - he can't work the elevator - but he'd be traumatized by having strangers chasing him up and down the hallway. And then there's the possibility that they'd actually catch him - Mr. Bond may not have claws, but he does have teeth and I swear the cat is made of rubberbands instead of flesh and bone. Oh, and he weighs 18 pounds, which catches everyone by surprise since he looks slender and, hey, he's a cat - how heavy can he be? Right? Right.
On the same level, if the workers went on the balcony and did for the ants, how the devil did they get those cats back out there? I really want to know the answer to that one. It took me a good ten minutes to get Binks back out from under my bed this morning when he made a break for it (after seeing me trying to close the balcony door - I must develope those lightning fast reflexes I keep thinking I have until the cats prove me insanely wrong). And if they did have to corral the cats back out there, I REALLY wish I'd been here to watch, because I'm sure it was a very comical sight from the view of the fly on the wall. Of course, I'm biased. In my mind, Cat versus Big Worker-Man Human always means the cat will be dramatically victorious.
I don't know. Part of me thinks I should just let it go. After all, I only have this place for seven months, no matter what. But how much trouble will these fiendish ants become if I don't act on it now? I could always put out ant traps on the balcony. Because they were so effective on the roaches in the apartment. And I really don't want my sunrise sessions with cats and coffee to be spoiled by the presence of crawly bugs on my skin. But I also don't want Binks and Mr. Bond playing with the traps. They are the perfect size for kitty paws to use for kitty soccer. I know this because that's the first thing Binks tried to do upon discovering one in the bathroom. I'm so relieved that he isn't amused at all by the look (and shriek) of sheer terror that I released when I caught him at that. It would really stink to have to choose between seeing no roaches (for about a week, which is all as long as these 3-month baits worked) and between my baby getting sick (or worse) from playing with them. I know I'd choose to deal with the roaches, but I'd be ticked about it.
The things we do for our babies. Now if it comes to spiders, the cats are just going to have to learn to catch and eat them. I don't completely have it in for spiders, but I do have a problem with them hanging around (or creepy-crawling around) in my personal space. They're fine as long as I don't know they're there. Hey, they eat bugs, like cockroaches and ants. But they also leave icky-sticky spider webs floating around in thin air, waiting to catch one unawares and cause convulsions of gross-out, get-it-off-me-*(&^%... And then there's whole thing about wrapping their food up and sucking it dry, then leaving the empty sack laying around for someone else (me) to clean up. When I took my furniture out of storage after about five years, lots of spider remnants were attached to my things and I really can't express my disgust at having to get rid of that crap. Well, not in any terms that I'd put in a movie with a rating milder than "R," anyway. And I really HATE (yes, I said HATE) having an unwitting spider (who I'm sure is just looking for a free ride to the next tasty treat) get on me. On me. Shuuder and moan. This is definitely not a girl you're going to spot in pet store playing with tarantulas. No way. Not I.
And what is it nowadays with movie makers all trying to outdo each other by making the most beleiveable spiders and then making big, long, horrifying scenes with them? Example 1: "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets" out in the woods with Harry, Ron, the dog and the car. The only one that wasn't exceedingly creepy was the one who should have been the most horrific. I know I'd pee myself empty if I saw a spider the size of a house. But, no, it's the thousands of spiders in all other sizes that really put me off my popcorn in that scene. Example 2: "Lord of the Rings: the Return of the King" when Golem lures Frodo in the spider's lair. I think even wandering in the dark, the first wiff of that place would make me turn tail and run. And it that didn't do, finding the first bag of bones would. And I don't care where you are, if you've just been chased by a giant spider, and you come out of a hole in the side of a mountain into open space, you look everywhere, especially up and behind. Because spiders have an amazing ability to scrunch themselves through teeny tiny passages smaller than their bodies, and you never know where they'll come out. And they're fast and agile, and they're outsides are made of hard stuff.
Ok, just ick.
Well, I hope I've gotten you as sidetracked as I've gotten myself. If I have, at least I've accomplished something. :) Go pet your cats and kill your bugs. Take care to avoid getting these instructions backwards.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
angoraphobic
Angoraphobic: n. (angora>fur of a rodent with long ears and fluffy tail) (phobic>scardycat) 1.one who is terrified of items or creatures sporting soft fur.
Angoraphobics are normally found far away from shopping malls where finer textiles might be sold. These individuals will also be far from any social event with high-class attendees, as angora may be worn by socialites at any time of year, especially in cooler climates.
Similar phobics: cottophobic (afraid of natural cotton weaves); naugaphobic (fear of unnatural fabrics); skinophobic (fear of nudity--tough taking showers)
Angoraphobics are normally found far away from shopping malls where finer textiles might be sold. These individuals will also be far from any social event with high-class attendees, as angora may be worn by socialites at any time of year, especially in cooler climates.
Similar phobics: cottophobic (afraid of natural cotton weaves); naugaphobic (fear of unnatural fabrics); skinophobic (fear of nudity--tough taking showers)
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